


Last Fall

by beautyinsteadofashes



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Season 2 alt ending and Season 3 au, Suicidal Thoughts, The major character death is Kyle not gonna lie, This fic includes an OFC/Jimmy ship and OFC/Derek friendship, This will contain new songs and musical numbers, Warnings are because this fic is heavily based around Derek's sexual harassment allegations, and other characters - Freeform, this will probably also include Julia and Derek bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautyinsteadofashes/pseuds/beautyinsteadofashes
Summary: In the wake of the death of Kyle Bishop, the cast of Hit List are reassessing what the show should be. Derek is under the microscope of the public due to the backlash of the sexual allegations made against him last year. Daisy is breathing down his neck and Ana is beginning to get suspicious. No longer able to be object with the show he brings in a second choreographer. Starting off between 2x14 and 2x15 as they prepare the show for Broadway this fic follows those involved with Hit list through to the end of Season 2 and on into Season 3. Jimmy/OFC, Jimmy/Karen closure, Derek/OFC friendship, Derek/Karen closure, Derek/Ivy. Focuses on multiple characters not just the OC.
Relationships: Eileen Rand & Derek Wills, Ivy Lynn/Derek Wills, Jimmy Collins/Other Characters, Julia Houston & Tom Levitt, Julia Houston/Michael Swift, Karen Cartwright & Derek Wills, Karen Cartwright/Jimmy Collins, Kyle Bishop & Jimmy Collins, Kyle Bishop/Tom Levitt, Nick Felder/Eileen Rand
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Last Fall

Chapter One: The Cutting Room Floor (2x14-2x15) 

Derek’s eyes poured over the scene between JB and Nina, back and forth over the dialogue and direction. The chill that ran down the spines of the audience at the seedy advances of the manager was present beneath his skin but now with a new sensation that he was tempted to call guilt.

Derek Wills paused, pen twirling between his fingers. Tired eyes retraced the same line again and again. The dim light made it all the more difficult as he sat on the floor with pages splayed out around him. Art imitates life imitates art. JB was the product of Kyle’s vivid imagination, a creation plucked from his wildest dreams of the dastardly most despicable agents in Hollywood with the corruption and power that brings. And yet…

That sweet boy’s face flashed through his head for the fourth time this morning causing him to push the stale air from his lungs in a long, rough sigh. Derek leaned back on hands, feeling the cool stage beneath his palms, and closing his warm aching eyes. The cold darkness was comforting. That kid was haunting him, haunting them all, even with the funeral over and done with. Weeks had been flying by in quick succession yet Bishop remained - his vision interwoven in the script, his dreams nailed down into the floorboards and his death in the lines of each actors’ face.

Taking all that dreariness and turning it into something positive, taking all that smoke and cloud that hung over them and turning it into some kind of light, felt like an insurmountable task to the usually cynical director. The world was waiting for him. The world was watching him. His cast was counting on him.

Somehow, someway they had to rip this book from Jimmy’s clutches, they had to take the post its and the vague ideas, the directions given to the cast in private talks and spontaneous excited whispers and turn it into something concrete and real. The essence of this thing, this musical Hit List flowed between them, floating about in the air and difficult to pin down - impossible to turn into a coherent libretto, let alone a Broadway worthy one.

At the very least they needed a solid script to get them through their Off-Broadway run. He had mustered that much. Next…He had no idea where to go. Julia was helping where she could. Jimmy was being impossible, and Karen, Ana and Sam were all brimming with ideas but unable to get Collins to listen.

Derek was sure that he was not the man for the task. That boy had looked up to him. His talent, his direction, his choreo. He had seen some value in him, something worthy of admiration even when his friends had all seen right through his shit. That monster Kyle had called forth. That slimy shady manager, in this moment, felt far closer to the truth than any shinning role model the boy might have seen him as.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t clashed, creative visions, late nights, crappy dialogue, it had all been put through the ringer and the kid had learned to speak his mind, bless him. It was that he had built this villain in the piece as a commentary on society unaware of the demon that had been sitting right beside him. And he felt like a devil, tonight at least. Daisy was breathing down his neck, Things coming to a point with Karen had shaken him, and Ana still wanted nothing to do with him. What would have happened if he and Karen had shared a moment like that all the way back when? If she hadn’t been with Dev…would it now be her on the other side of a yellow envelope, right there along with the redhead? Would he have done the same? Or was he right and this whole thing was a fabrication to benefit the girls’ careers?

Karen, he knew could never be that manipulative. Despite the fame. Despite the cutthroat decisions she made and ambition she held; she was still a sweet southern girl at heart. At least he hoped so. He hoped this city hadn’t corrupted her just yet. Maybe it was her and these kids that had gotten to him. Maybe if he ‘fessed up to the fact that he was once a scoundrel then he could finally start over. Clean slate. No! That would mean abandoning the show, abandoning these kids and now was not the time for that.

He tossed the script across the empty stage with a deep growl and its white pages fluttered and flapped as they floated down through the air in bright white swirls against the backdrop of empty seats.

Jimmy wasn’t sleeping. Karen could tell. It wasn’t that there was an empty bed beside her, all that was on hold. It was the rustling of papers until two in the morning, the whimpering of nightmares from the couch through the darkness when she tip-toed out for a drink, it’s the way he jumps whenever she enters a room. He’s drained but barrelling on and it isn’t doing him any favours.

To make matters worse, the withdrawal has taken its toll. She knew it was going to get worse, much worse, before it got better. While she knew that in practice, in theory was something else entirely. She had never seen anything like it. The tears, and the sweat and the shakes…the constant shakes…the twitch of his fingers, the rapping of knuckles on a table, and his eyes…his eyes were so far gone. It was a whole other world to her but she did what she could. And Ana, despite the worrying question of how she knew all this, was a godsend. There was no way any of them had enough money to send him to a professional, so they rode it all out together. Just like they had with everything else since the funeral – as a unit, a family. On the days where it was all too much, Sam graciously stepped in as Jesse. Some days they were flying, others floundering, but they survived…somehow, they always do.

On the worst nights, the ones he lets her see at least, Kyle’s name often leaves his lips and Karen isn’t entirely sure if this particular storm is a memory or a dream.

They’ve all barely slept, running on empty from rehearsals and heavy with grief. It’s no surprisingly then when a late-night quarrel wakes her.

“Hey! You can’t- “Ana’s voice is muffled through her bedroom wall as Karen hears shuffling and a struggle. Boots are heavy on the carpet, vibrating through the small apartment’s floors and she recognizes their weight – he’s awake.

“Get off me!” Jimmy grumbles, too loud for this hour, and his irritation causes Karen to venture out. Ana and Jimmy have a tense relationship in the best of times. Even Kyle’s best efforts to get them to bond seemed to create more of a sibling squabble between then any kind of warmth. They run hot and cold, especially now with added pressure of the show, Adam, and the exhaustion of mourning.

“You can’t drive!” Ana is clinging onto him with claw like hands, trying her best to reach the jangling keys in his hand.

“What’s going on?” The pair barely see her appear in the kitchen as Ana finally gets a hold of the keys.

“Fine! Then I’ll walk!” Jimmy shrugs the brunette off roughly and slams the door behind him without even noticing or acknowledging Karen.

“Karen…” Her roommate turns to her, apologies in her tired eyes. Sorry to have woken her, sorry she hadn’t stopped him when there was really no need to apologize. She never should have dragged her into this. None of this was her burden to bear to begin with. “It’s fine.” Karen slid on a coat over her pyjamas and reached out a hand for the keys. Gently, she took Ana by the shoulders and ushered her back to bed. Thank God she’d gotten up for her usual late-night snack or they would’ve woken to an empty couch. “I know where he’s going”

[Brother – Matt Corby]

Karen’s right. Jimmy’s mind is a rabbit warren of past and present – especially where Kyle is concerned and Kyle doesn’t seem to be leaving him anytime soon. At least not until his withdrawal finally reaches a head. He’s done this before. Got clean and relapsed countless times and while honouring Kyle makes this feel like the last time. It’s also the hardest. His mind has so much ammunition to use against him. There’s enough drama going on in there to write a whole album and the dreams aren’t pulling any punches.

Uuuuh uuuh uuuooooh

Uuuuh uuuh uuuuuuuh

Jimmy hurries down the freezing street, skidding on melted snow but managing to stay upright – eyes fixed ahead. While he hears Kyle’s voice it’s Tammy that comes to him in his memory. He’s back in Brooklyn, in the squalor of Adam’s apartment on a ratty mattress and stealing his brothers’ girl.

She’s all blonde hair and long legs just like he remembered her. Her chipped nail polish gets caught in his hair, her laugh is rasped by years of smoking and her skin is smooth beneath his calloused fingers. He’s 19 and she’s far too old and the party that will change their lives is still three years away.

Sleep now under my skin

Make sure you'll try to

Conjure the wind

And ease my mind

Any addict will tell you that you can’t be pushed to quit. That they end will never come before it’s ready and not a moment before. You have to want it. You have to be ready to change and no amount of lecturing or pleading is going to convince you otherwise until that piece of your brain shifts. There’s a whole string of lows that you can hit before you finally turn a corner of some of them can even feel like rock bottom. This night, even now with the hindsight of Tammy’s death, feels like the lowest he ever got.

Uuuu uuuuuuoooohh

Uuuu uuuu uuuuuhhh

Kyle’s singing is battling against the memory of Tammy in his mind. He wants to stay there in that memory. He wants to go back to before it all went wrong. Away from her death, away from Kyle’s, in the safety of the nothing-ness. Still his feet trudge on.

Somebody call out to your brother

He's calling out your name

Hiding under the covers

With no one else to blame

You couldn't help out your own neighbour

You couldn't tell it to his face

You were fucked up by the blame

Everyone had it all wrong. The thought he was the innocent victim - that Adam had corrupted him and pulled him away from whatever perfect trajectory they thought he had previously been on. However, he had never been on any kind of straight and narrow path? Yes, Adam wasn’t worth the spit it took to say his name but Jimmy felt as if he’d been doomed long before that. The moment his mother died something in him had vanished and he had always been trying to fill that. He just hadn’t known what to use until Adam had given it to him. He’d started dealing drugs because of Adam but he’d started using them for Tammy – so she’d stay.

You cower in the corner

Confide in your father

Let it out and say

Let it pass away

The night Jimmy Collins (James Wittman then) and Kyle Bishop met could not have started in more opposite settings. Kyle had been at a New Year’s Eve party despite being severely underage and having a glorious night in purple feather boa. Jimmy’s night started with Adam catching Jimmy and Tammy and kicking the shit out of him.

Sleep now under my skin

Make sure you try to

Conjure the wind

And ease my mind

By the time Jimmy had reached the water that night after the altercation, he’d been more comatose than he had ever been before and since no longer caring what combination of substances were in his system. Before Kyle had arrived, he’d been ready to jump. It was strange now to think that a place that had been found so quickly out of pure desperation had become a regular sanctuary and endured as a meeting place for the pair of them and that it held Kyle’s memory long after he was gone. That was where his feet took him now as Kyle’s voice echoed in his head – trying to reach him through time, trying to pull him back from the edge.

And I said

Uuuuh uuuh uuuooooh

Uuuuh uuuh uuuuuuuh

Somebody call out to your brother

He's calling out your name

Ooh ooh ooh

Hiding under the covers

With no one else to blame

Ooh ooh ooh

You couldn't help out your own neighbour

You couldn't tell it to his face

You were fucked up by the blame

No matter how much of a freak accident everyone insisted it had been Jimmy still couldn’t help feeling responsible. He’d reread their last messages repeatedly, replay Kyle’s messages, staring at the unopened bag that Kyle had left at his door. He’d been found just blocks from his house mere moments after dropping that off and ending their friendship! It was obvious that it was his fault.

You cower in the corner

Confide in your father

Let it out and say

You cower in the corner

Confide in your father

Let it break your day

Let it out and say

He didn’t labour the point though. He’d gone and on about it for long enough and he knew the others were getting tired – that they can only inject with positivity for so long before they too would give up on him. They needed space to deal with this themselves instead of carrying him. So, he came here to think - to be alone. Well not alone, with Kyle.

Wait there

Pull yourself out of this state dear

Acknowledge you were a fake here

From there on you might just grow

Freezing rain turned the snow to sludge beneath his feet and cut into his cheeks as his hands finally found the cold metal of the rail. It was strong, sturdy, and familiar. The fence creaked beneath his weight. This spot was constant and unchanged despite everything else that was blowing about in the wind. He felt the familiar rust and scars in the railing against his skin and took a long shaky breath to steady himself and brace against the cold. At least here, he could still feel Kyle. Still remember his voice and picture his face. Everywhere else he was fading.

Somebody call out to your brother

He's calling out your name

Hiding under the covers

With no one else to blame

Despite his lungs burning and his chest aching, despite the trembling in his fingers and the tension in his jaw, he felt his bottom lip quiver. He’d held on for so long. Did his best to keep his grief private to not burden others and to instead focus on the work and the makeshift rehab. He should’ve known. He should’ve known it would all come crashing down eventually. No amount of bravado was going to keep away the tears and his sobriety meant that there was no escape to hide behind.

“Jimmy?” Kyle’s voice and the other’s blended together in his mind. Eight years melted away as exhaustion clouded reality in a film of a daydream. Thick, dusty, and blurred. When he turned, for a brief moment the person standing beneath the streetlight was tiny and male not tall and female and the pink scarf seemed purple. For the briefest of moments, a foolish boy in a stupid, cracked, dollar store tiara was beaming at him – eyes red with drink, and cloudy with tipsy hope.

Oh, you couldn't help out your own neighbour

You couldn't tell it to his face

You were fucked up by the blame

Then it was her and Kyle’s voice was gone. How had she gotten here so fast? How long had she been standing there? The keys jingled against the coins in her coat pocket as she drew near, answering his question. He still managed to fight back the tears long enough to look down and see her white and pink slippers crunch the snow beneath them and soak up the moisture, damaging the fabric, and tainting the swirling patterns. A warm, gentle hand touched his freezing shoulder and floodgates gave way.

It was a miracle that Jimmy was even able to perform the next night, thank God, Scott couldn’t afford to also stage matinees. Collins was a message and Derek wasn’t sure how much longer the show would survive with it’s leading man and composer coming apart at the seams. The Love I Meant To Say still silenced the crowd. Derek felt a little sadistic in the relief he felt at that fact. Even if Collins was messing up half the time and stumbling through his recovery the other half, at least he was getting some of it out on the stage and people were responding to it. It was probably keeping the show afloat if stage door was anything to go off. 

Manhattan Theatre didn’t normally have throngs outside of people the door except when alumni came back to do gigs or fundraisers for the Theatre. Now it was teaming with people. Somewhere between the infamy of Bombshell and the outpouring of love for Kyle they had hit a sweet spot in the demographic. The kind that were eager to watch tragedy and feel like they had contributed. He wasn’t sure if he would call them do-gooders or vultures but they kept the seats warm.

Interacting with the audience always provoked a strange response in the director. When he was younger, he had lapped it up, particularly the praise from young women. As he got old and as social media had taken off the more, he disliked hearing everyone’s opinions. Critics he could read, and Twitter he could scroll at his own pace but fans shouting things at you minutes after seeing the show with time for them to digest what you done felt premature.

Julia was right. Sitting in the audience and ignoring reviews did work in some settings. Particularly when you were still trying to bash the thing out and figure out exactly what you wanted to say. However, eventually you had to look up from the work and see if it would be successful, if the message was getting through to people. So, every now and then he would linger just inside the door and listen to the wave of noise that would come through each time the stage door opened. He heard screams for Karen and cheers from Jimmy, it wasn’t quite the same volume of people he’d seen in the past but it was growing night be night. What he didn’t expect however was to hear his own name.

“Mr Wills” the guard held the door ajar and held something out to him. “Somewhere here to see you”

Derek frowned and took the piece of plastic: A drivers’ license. Magdalena Firth. His brows shot up at the now older face of his past colleague staring back at him from the ID. She still had those same dark small eyes, oval smooth jaw and warm olive skin. Her hair was straighter now, older and a little weathered but her face hadn’t aged a day and she clearly still clung to her tom boy roots in a plain white tea and little makeup. He handed the license back to the guard. Smart move on her part really. He wouldn’t have recognized her married name.

The guard eyed his confusion, sceptically. “Should I let her in?” Derek felt an odd dread in the pit of his stomach. With everything that had happened with Rebecca, and Daisy, and the dancers last Fall, another dancer from the past felt like one too many. Surely, surely, she didn’t have grudges against him. It had all been equal and consensual, right? Well equal as far as he’d been in the one on the back foot for most of it and she’d been the one wanting to stay friends. An odd position he’d rarely found himself until recently with Ivy….and Karen.

“Ah…. yet. Get Mark to bring her through to the green room” He quickly avoided having this conversation and public and retreated back into the darkness of the theatre to think. Nothing had happened between them in over a decade and they hadn’t worked together in years? Derek practically growled at the remainder of the cast that were still loitering in the green room. He sent them back to their dressing room and shut the door behind them. Maybe, maybe she had just come to see the show. Seen his name or heard about Kyle and been intrigued. Yeah. Derek took a deep, calming breathe and sank down onto the couch, that was it. This show was precious to have another scandal derail it. He needed to keep a tight lid on all these allegations until they made it to Broadway. Then his promise was fulfilled and the chips could fall where they may.

“Thank you” he heard familiar foot falls outside the door as her muffled voice thanked Mark and the doorknob turned. Should he stand? Should he stay seated? He stayed put, making himself look comfortable, with arms stretched out along the back of the couch, despite feeling anything but.

She turned the knob, she entered, she smiled that same bright smile.

“Right where I left you” she teased and her Venezuelan accent still peeked through her Queens in the way he remembered.

Relief flooded him.

Derek smiled, nodding partly in agreement partly in relief as he breathed a laugh. “Lazy bastard as always. What can I do you for?”

Mags closed the door behind her and he spotted the programme in her hand.

“You came” he nodded to the paper in hand as she crossed the room and sat beside him, shoving coats out of the way.

“I did” she smiled half-heartedly as she mimicked his relaxed slouch so his arm ran along the back of hers in the tight confines of that small couch. That half hearted smile made him frown at his friend. Something touched the corner of her eyes and hung around her mouth. A weight. Disappointment? “And?”

“It was beautiful” her voice trembled in a way he didn’t think he’d ever heard and tears pricked in her eyes. His brows lifted and he lifted a comforting hand to hold her shoulder. “Anyway” she blinked away the tears, never one for sentiment. “That isn’t why I’m here. I can bother your leading man later. Right, so…”

Suddenly, she became serious and sat up with folded hands on her knees.

The dread returned.

“Daisy Parker came to see me”


End file.
